Turk Resolutions
by nightmistral
Summary: UPDATED. Chapters 4 and 5 We all love shopping. It's safe, fun and stress-free. With Elena in, however, it's a whole different story... Dedicated to Jason Tandro.:
1. Reno: Strike One

Disclaimer: No, I don't own FF7. Sadly. :(

It was the 30th of December, the second last night of the year. Usually, the pubs would be running out of beer and fistfights would be breaking out everywhere, courtesy of a certain redheaded Scourge of Shinra, or so he liked to be called. Usually. Today, though business was brisk in the pubs, the beer vats were still moderately full, enough for the next day's partying, and bartenders all over Kalm were breathing a sigh of relief. For some reason or other, it looked like the Scourge wouldn't be calling today. Good news, because it meant less repair costs, and definitely a lot less trouble.

The second-last night of the year found Reno slouched on a couch, swigging vodka and cursing Rufus, Tseng and the entire Turk department in general. "Damn Rufus for shooting me… How the hell would I know he was in that wheelchair when I took it for a joyride, anyway? He looks like a frigging pile of rags in that stupid bathrobe thingy he insists on wearing, so it ain't my fault anyhow. Damn Tseng for always having an EMR stuck up his ass and not helping… Stupid 'Laney, she just _had_ to rub it in and cause Rufus to shoot me. Again. And Rude… he's another one. What the hell does he mean, "I can't see without my sunglasses"!? For Leviathan's sake, they're frigging _sunglasses_ not glasses! Sometimes I wonder what I'm slogging my ass off for half the time. An' what do I get?" He mimicked Tseng's comments in a girlish falsetto, "No, you _can't_ go to Healin Lodge with us, Reno. No, no and for the last time, no! Look, why don't you just sit here and don't let your ass slide any deeper than it's already gone? Do some _reflection_; I expect to see your New Year Resolution when I get back."

He scowled into his shot glass, "Who the 'ell does 'e think 'e is?" Imagining it was Tseng's head, he flung against the wall in a practiced move. It (the glass, not Tseng) connected with the wall with a satisfying crash, the glass splintering and sending shards flying. Reno smirked as a web of extensive, spidery hairline cracks appeared on the wall. Good. It was going to be another reason to bang on Rufus's door and demand for compensation. Almost immediately, there was a banging on the ceiling which was most probably made by a walking stick rapping against it, followed by an elderly, querulous voice, "Young man, you are being a menace to the public! _Stop it now_!"

"SHUT UP, you old bat! And you can STUFF IT TOO!" He yelled back, loud enough to wake the dead, grinning as a _very_ shocked silence ensued. Well. At least that had been something to make his day. He sighed and sat up, feeling a lot better. Time to get rolling before some other part of his anatomy rolled as well. Tseng was coming back soon, and what he asked for, he got.

Several minutes, Reno was sitting at his desk, glaring at a piece of blank, grubby and dog-eared paper on his desk. He had faithfully followed the rules of writing a report as he understood them: 1) Steal a pen. 2) Persuade someone to give you paper free of charge by glaring at them, looking Extremely Threatening and saying, "Ya do know what's gonna happen to ya if ya don't give me that scrap of paper now, doncha? No? Yeah, well, yer head's gonna fly _straight off_, then I'm gonna gouge out yer ribs one by one, an' if yer still in the mood for dessert after that I'll rip out yer innards and stuff 'em back in… An' I ain't never learnt medicine so don't blame me if ya get indigestion." (He was rather proud of that tactic. It _always _got him what him wanted. In Reno's opinion, politeness was for headless ninnies.) 3) Write, was what he was currently struggling with. He never liked writing; it was the main reason he'd joined the Turks. You didn't need much schooling to fire a gun, after all. Unfortunately, things were never as easy as they seemed, because somehow Tseng found lots and lots of reports for him to do. He gritted his teeth, swearing to get his vendetta as soon as possible. A Turk's gotta do what a Turk's gotta do, right? He picked up the pen and laboriously printed out the first word.

Reno, the Redheaded Public Menace, Scourge of Shinra and Chief (self-appointed) of the Piss Tseng Off Committee, presents his New Year Resolution:

1)I will be punctual to work. As if. Okay, I will not be late to work unless I get a pay rise, but since everyone knows that Rufus is a Stingy Old Miser , no, scratch that, very economical minded, that's not gonna happen. Therefore, I will continue with the status quo. (i.e. being late)

2)While admitting no previous fault or blame, I have identified the following areas in which an alternative approach might be conducive to a more harmonious working environment

a) with reference to Boss-Man

not trip Tseng up, not stick bubble gum in his office lock so he can't get in first thing in the morning and has to pound on the door like an idiot, not flick rubber bands at his bindi and later protest I thought it was a fly, not wire his PHS so it plays 'Reno's Great Theme'* endlessly and drives him crazy, not puncturing his car tyres, not swapping his black dress jacket for a hot pink leather one when he asks me to bring it to the drycleaners', not replace his hair gel with Superglue, not let Dark Nation into his office to chew up the carpet, not write fake love letters to him from Elena, not jump at out at him from odd corners and make him spill hot coffee all over himself, not accidentally leave thumbtacks on his seat, not make his paperwork mysteriously combust, not leaving fingerprints on his meticulously polished desk surface just where he can spot them and not be 'annoying' or otherwise.

Heh. I don't think this is gonna fly. Who am I kidding? There wouldn't be any fun left in this life if I left off him. I'm not gonna stop 'less you want a bullet in between your eyes. Though I might consider the 'not trip Tseng up' thing. It's getting old. 'Sides, he always tosses me over onto my back regardless of whether I'm about to trip him or not. Where is the _justice_ in my life?

b) with reference to 'Laney

not set her desk on fire/ pretend there is something so absolutely _hideous_ on her table that it has to be immediately _destroyed_ (e.g. her state-of-the-art, spotless laptop that's just begging to be broken in), not prank call her in the middle of the night and attempt to impersonate Tseng**, not replace with her favourite shampoo with Corneo's Hair DyeTM*** , not strategically plant fake cockroaches where she can conveniently see them, scream and drop her mug of cocoa on Tseng's shoes, not stealing her secret stash of Pringles and pointing the blame to Rude and not abduct her potted plant and conveniently leave it in front of Dark Nation to pee on.

Hmm…. If I really stick by this, I reackon it'll stop Elena beating me with charred desk legs big-time. Nah. I don't think so though. What's a little pain in exchange for fun? It's always worth ragging her 'cos Rufus eventually gets sick of us all and throws us out, so that leaves me with a whole day off. Way to go, Stingy Old Miser. I mean, Rufus.

c) with reference to Rude

not drape his bald head with multicoloured wigs when he's sleeping, take pictures and then upload them to Facebook (Yo, dude, ever heard of Beijing 101 hair treatment?), not nick his sunglasses and aim them at 'Laney for target practice, not abduct Mr Snuffles**** and leave him on top of the fifteen-metre flagpole outside Shinra, not find every patch of turbulence I can so he winds up puking, and not scream "RUDE! TALK TO ME!!! YO, YOU AIN'T DEAD!!" outside his window until the slates on his roof fall off/ or he flings Mr Snuffles at me.

One thing I know is that I ain't _ever_ gonna enlist him any more as my Lieutenant in the Piss Tseng Off Committee. Tseng caught on when Rude was rattling off on out fine the damn weather was that day (it was raining hailstones), and made me open the door to his office instead. Result? Shit hit the fan. Literally. But maybe I should stop teasing Rude for a while. He hasn't turned up for work ever since I took him for a whirl in the 'copter. I wonder why. Anyway, the rookie on the job's a major pain in the ass. Can't talk right, got no brains, and can't shoot straight neither. I got hit _thrice_ by my _own_ side against AVALANCHE. I couldn't face 'em for_ weeks_.

d) with reference to the Stingy Old Miser Rufus

not do a wheelie with his wheelchair while he's still in it, not fold all his paperwork into paper aeroplanes and throw them about in his office, not spike his coffee with vinegar, not eat his favourite Mideel Delight in front of him when he's too sick to actually eat, not barge into his office when he's sleeping and overturn ice-cold water on his head, not monopolise the remote when he's watching TV/ make him watch endless reruns of The Smurfs, which he utterly abhors and not be a 'bloody nuisance' or otherwise.

_If_ Rufus wasn't such a Stingy Old Miser and pay me more than 2000 gil a year, I'd be more than happy to get off his case. Sadly, that isn't ever gonna happen unless Cloud starts noticing Tifa, which is _never_. So, I'm doing all this in the hope he actually _remembers_ me for once. He oughta thank me for reminding him each and every day that he's alive, and that he's got a bunch of Turks that are seriously, excuse my French, bored outta their minds.

3. Kill Tseng for making me waste my time on this. Turks don't have New Year Resolutions. Ever.

4. Cut Vincent's hair while he's sleeping. It's got _moths_ in it. That ain't very hygienic, but I guess that's what you get from thrity years in a freaking coffin. Anyway, he needs a major restyling, once Tseng's got him convinced to join us. Waste of time if ya ask me, but ya can't call yerself a Turk when your hair bears a striking resemblance to a mopstick. Especially one that looks like it's been used to clear up Rude's puke too many times.

5. Flood Tseng's office in the Great Revenge of Reno. He's just going to absolutely _love _this.

Signed,

Reno.

P.S. You can go and stick your head down the nearest toilet bowl. And I hope for your sake it hasn't been flushed yet.

Reno gave a pleased grunt as he surveyed his handiwork. It was going to be promising year ahead, indeed. He could just hear the arteries stretching to their breaking point and see faces turning a wild shade of puce. It was _amazing_ what people did once they got really pissed. He strolled out of the house, humming to himself.

Tseng finally got rid of a drunk and amorous Rufus at one AM. Breathing a sigh of relief, he entered his office, which was blessedly quiet, immaculate and Rufus-free as usual. Thank Leviathan for chlorofoam. A couple of drops, and Rufus was out like a ligthbulb. Turning on the light, he spotted a piece of paper on his desk. "What? Ah..."

At least it looked Reno had the decency to turn his work in and not leave it up to Tseng to hunt him down for it. And for once, he hadn't made it look like a whirlwind had devastated his office. Tseng was impressed.

He began to read. As he did so, he noticed a slight dripping sound, but was too busy trying to force his temper down to notice it. Reno's handwriting was atrocious, the paper looked like it had been dragged in the sewer, with ink and various food stains spattered everywhere and his subordinate's lack of respect was utterly outrageous. _It's going to be cleaning out the store rooms for him tommorrow..._Tseng's thoughts were abruptly broken when he felt something cold lap at his ankle.

"Get _off_ my leg, Dark Nation. Go bother Rufus... or something!" He snapped, but when the animal did not back off as usual, he ventured a glance at his feet. And let out a ear-piercing shriek.

His shoes! His lovely, patent leather, hand-sewn, shiny, ten thousand gil shoes were swamped in black, greasy, stinking water from nowhere! _Oh no, please! __**Not**__ my shoes! No!!!!_

In his fury-fogged mind, something clicked into place. He looked back at the paper in a frighteing instance of cold self-control. '5) Flood Tseng's office in Reno's Great Revenge. He's just going to absolutely _love_ this.' His eyes took on an inhuman reddish tint that would have sent any Remnant, no matter how insane, running for cover and screaming in abject fear.

"RENO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

That night, the skies were filled with the sound of enraged roaring and the drone of an aged helicopter trying its darned best to get the hell out of there before it was shot down by a _very_ soaked, stinking and majorly annoyed senior Turk. Oh yeah. What better than to spend the last few hours of the year like this? Reno's grin widened as he stared down at Tseng, who'd just tripped over a shrub in his hot pursuit. He could feel it. It was _really_ gonna be a smashing year ahead. Especially when he got the video up on TurkTube.

*something that involved a lot of maniacal laughter, gun fire, farting and yelling of 'Ya can't beat me ya fathead!' No wonder it drove poor Tseng insane.

**you don't want to know. Really. Reno found himself come morning unconscious in front of the phone with a major nose bleed. Oh boy...

***this was admittedly his favourite. Elena's hair, which had never been that fetching anyway, had turned an extremly unflattering shade of something that could only be described as puke green. It smelled exactly like Dark Nation's bum on an especially bad day.

****Rude's favourite teddy bear. For some reason, it was an odd shade of pink and purple, complete with a tiny orange sun on the bear's tummy. The removal of Mr Snuffles would cause a formerly passive Rude to become extremely violent. Reno had barely escaped with his head intact when he'd used it as a pillow on overtime , it was worth it to see the look on Rude's face. He'd nearly pissed himself laughing all the way down Shinra's sixty-four flights of stairs.

Author's Note:

Heh. This is actually the second draft of the entire thing, 'cos my laptop (or more accurately Microsoft Word) has gone crazy. It can no longer save my files, 'cos somehow it claims they're corrupted, which they're not. Damn it. Anyway, hope it was a good read! :D

Listening to: All the Right Moves - One Republic


	2. Tseng's Bad Day

I do NOT own FF7. Geez, how many times do ya want me ta say it?

A/N: This one's for ya, **Star Anise**! Sorry it's a bit late, but I hope you like it all the same! :)

Tseng scowled out the window. Honestly, what was it with people and Christmas? It was long past the day of presents and mistletoe, and yet... And yet, Rufus was indulging in nostalgic memories of beer, beer and more beer. Again. The Chief of the Turks shuddered as Rufus hit the chorus again, "'Tis the season to be jolly, tralalala..lalalala..." Rufus had a stunning ability to sing all the wrong notes. In his opinion, the Shinras were as talented in the entertainment department as an orang-utan in the library. (i.e. utterly hopeless. With luck, the orang-utan _wouldn't_ take anybody's head off, and with luck, he wouldn't have to put off with his superior's drunken carousing any more. Only luck like that would have to involve Hojo pole-dancing in fishnet stockings on a bar-top before it actually _happenned._)

Obviously, he was in a _very_ bad mood. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. His office had been, of all things, flooded with sewage, his precious, precious, precious shoes _ruined_, and all his paperwork gone down the drain. Effectively, this left him with absolutely _nothing_ to do, and for a workaholic like him, it was pure torture. Worse, he was currently installed in Elena's office (oh, Leviathan, WHY?) and he had to endure the woman _ogling_ him 9 to 5. Didn't he, as Rufus's right -hand man, Commander of the Turks, have a right to personal space? Apparently not, given the way Elena's eyes were glued on to him. He growled. His fingers were practically _itching_ for a pen. And paper. There was really nothing like paperwork for stress relief, except that he _didn't_ have any to do. And life just got better, of course.

"Tseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnngggggggggggg!!!!" A muffled, whiny voice emanated from the locked door.

Tseng sighed wearily,"What is it now, Reno?"

"Can I please stop now? I'm tired and my back hurts. Pleeeassseee? I'm reallyreallyreally sorry I flooded your office. I swear, I won't do it again! Ever!" Reno wheedled hopefully.

The Chief groaned inwardly. Reno was the most troublesome Turk he'd ever enlisted. Before Reno's entrance, he'd been proud to boast that he was the only Chief in the entire history of Shinra that had _never_ developed a single white hair on the job. Now, to his utter despair, he had found twenty-seven. And counting... Thank Leviathan for Corneo's Hair Dye though. He had found some in Reno's drawer and used it, to good effect. Occasionally though, he had to wonder why his hair was a dubious shade of green as opposed to coal-black, but as long as it concelaed the white hairs, he couldn't care less.

"No. I told you, you can only stop when you've finished cleaning out my office, Reno. Get back to work. Now."

"But-" Reno was on the verge of wailing.

"No buts, Reno. If you don't stop whingeing and start working this instant, I'll give you a backache to cry about. Now get on with it!" He kicked the door warningly to get his message across.

Behind the door, there was some sniffling and cursing, notably something about a 'stupid, slave-driving, slimy-haired Boss-Man', but Tseng decided to ignore it. He could really do with a hot cup of coffee this morning, liberally sugared and smothered with cream.

"Elena! Can you please go get coffee from downstairs? I want lots of cream and sugar!"

"Sir, are you sure you don't want me instead, sir?" She leant forward, batting her eyelashes at him hopefully.

An uncomfortable silence reigned for three minutes. Tseng had to clutch on to the table for support. Him and Elena? _Oh gods, __**no**_**. **Being stuck in a room withRufus singing his amazingly out of tune rendition of 'Tis the season to be jolly' suddenly seemed a more appealing option than staying here with this obviously deranged woman. His fingers instinctively stole to his gun in case she jumped him. Finally, he managed to gasp out,"No, that will _not_ be necessary, Elena. Just... go get me the coffee, okay?"

Only once Elena had left the room then did Tseng drop his hand from the holster of his gun, sighing in relief. He knew he was good-looking, but that didn't mean he wanted insane women leaping onto him at every minute of the day. Or men for that matter, he thought sourly, recalling how Rufus had attempted - and failed, to kiss him yesterday, ending up snogging a perplexed Rude instead after he'd sidestepped his advances. Rufus didn't seem to mind much though, come to think of it. He shuddered, shaking his head to clear it from the disturbing graphic images that filled it. Time to move on to something else instead, perhaps.

At that moment, his PHS beeped, reminding him it was already 1600 hours on the 31st of December. Being a very task-oriented person, Tseng would already have completed his New Year Resolutions. In fact, he already had, somewhere back in October. Unfortunately, Reno's penchant for revenge and mischief had resulted in it being swept away to some far corner of Junon. (Tseng was rather correct on this count. His meticulously composed Resolutions were being used as a handy, abeit soaking piece of toilet paper by a chocobo. Mercifully, he wasn't there to witness the destruction of his work, or else a fourth Reich would have taken place.) That meant he had to rewrite everything all over again, much to his annoyance. He made a mental note never to let Reno come within a hundred-metre radius of his office ever again.

His search of Elena's table for a pen and paper turned out to be in vain. Her table was filled with the last gossip magazines, a number of which were on 'How to Snag your Dream Man'. To his horror and amusement, the articles were carefully highlighted, and there were even _notes_ written in the margins. So _that_ was why she'd turned up for work late wearing that funny hat - the one with a very ill-looking chocobo chick on the top. Apparently, it was supposed to express her desire for motherhood and nuptial ties. Right. He'd only ordered her to take it off at once, seeing as it made her stick out like a Bahamut in a field of daisies. After some more excavation, he uncovered pictures of himself he'd never even noticed had been taken. Some of them were rather unflaterring, given the circumstances he'd been caught in, i.e. sitting down on several of Reno's thumbtacks and being assaulted by three bad-tempered toads that had _somehow_ made their way into his office, which was at least a hundred miles away from the nearest pond. Those he removed to burn later, determined that Elena not hoard them anymore. Much as adoration would be welcome, he drew the line at having his dignity compromised. She had even embellished them with hearts and kisses - what on _earth_ was she thinking? At last, Tseng, grumbling, settled down with a lipstick and a page torn out from 'Kiss Him!' Really. He would have to have a word with Elena about filling her worktable with so much junk. Especially pictures of him. That woman certainly showed an unflinching talent as a budding stalker - who on earth would spend hours outside his house in the cold waiting to snap photos of him in the shower!!?

Tseng's New Year Resolutions:

1. Keep from developing any more white hairs. I may consider shaving bald, as it certainly saves a lot of time in the shower. Furthermore, I don't have to sneak into the HQ after hours just to snitch some more Corneo's Hair Dye from Reno's desk. The last time I did that, I got punched in the eye with his table's Anti-Burglar System and had to suffer double vision and more pranks, because he realised I couldn't see.

2. Start cackling and get myself a Masamune. Either that, or a pepper spray. Sometimes, you have to learn things from madmen to keep one's sanity. If used in the correct manner, I believe the Masamune would be an effective deterrent in keeping away BOTH Rufus and Elena, which I could really do without. And then I'll use the pepper spray to shut Reno up, who will most likely be laughing his head off about crackpot wannabes with a really bad aim.

3. In light of the current situation in the Turks, which has been rapidly degenerating (sex-crazed, perpetually drunk President, lovesick Elena, insane Reno and Rude, who's gone MIA), I have decided to enlist some fresh blood into the department. Notably, the new recruit will be Vincent Valentine, the ex-Turk. As procuring him might a problem, given his traumatic history with Shinra, I have decided to lay a trail of Popsicles* all the way from Shinra Mansion to the Turk HQ. Once he arrives here, I will mobilise Reno and Elena to subdue him and then issue him an ultimatum, saying that Lucrecia was tired of him bumming around like an aged hippie and wanted him to get into that nice, smexy Turk uniform again. That should do the trick. Note: Must learn from him how to keep hair shiny, long and black. Maybe I should buy a coffin. Exposure to ultraviolet light is bad, after all, and it's possibly causing me to turn grey before my time. I am still young, no matter what Reno says about my turning forty (Oh crap, can't I just stay 39 forever???) and becoming decrepit. He's just jealous that I'm Head Turk.

4. Punish Reno. He's becoming a little too big for his shoes, and reform is desperately needed to prevent him from becoming any bigger. I should think that spending sixty hours in Shinra's basement** cleaning up with only his saliva and a paintbrush would do very well indeed.

5. Move out of my current apartment to somewhere else, preferably very, very, very far away from HQ. It's stressful enough being Head Turk, and it's even more stressful finding out that someone has been stalking you for the past three years without you knowing it. Maybe I should go to sleep with my gun. Wait, I've already got one, so I'll just nick Rufus's shot gun to add to firepower.

6. - Here, Tseng was interrupted by Elena's laptop emitting a strange whistling sound. He dropped his paper, pulled out his gun and went over, very, very cautiously, to investigate. All the lights on her computer were blinking incessantly, but the screen itself was blank. _This can't be good,_Tseng ventured. He knew very little about electronics save his PHS, which was why he insisted on doing everything on paper. (Actually, it was more like Reno's wiring up of his PHS that changed his mind about upgrading to a laptop. Leviathan knows what Reno would do next with it. Something nasty, most likely.) He reached out gingerly and pressed the power button -

And was abruptly flung back as the laptop simultaneously combusted in fireball of flames and smoke. "What the-" Tseng choked, but then he was hurled _through_ the door (curse wood and all its splinters) into the arms of a very delighted Elena. "Sir!"

Feebly, a dust-enshrouded and coffee-soaked Tseng opened his eyes. And looked up straight into his worst nightmare. Elena was going to _kiss_ him. Yuck, no! The last thing he remembered before darkness claimed him was _New Year's Resolution Number One: I am SO going to kill Reno. After I'm done with him, he won't even be able to laugh, because by then he'll be in so many pieces I'll have to stuff him into an envelope and ship him back home. _It was abruptly followed by _Leviathan have mercy_ as he felt Elena's lips on his. Before the kiss go on any further, however, he was out like a lightbulb.

*it was Vincent's favourite food, and he would brave Hojo and the all the fell legions of Shinra just to eat one. Want to see Vincent turn into Chaos? No problemo. Just eat one in front of him. You won't even have time to open your mouth before your head gets pulled off. Nice, huh?

** Shinra's basement is a continuous subject of contention among the Board of Directors. Rufus insists it's an architectural wonder; no where else, he says, can one see so many rat holes, termite-infested corners, spiderwebs, labyrinthine corridors to rival the Minotaur's and dusty, old armchairs which he'd gotten sick of over time and then discarded. Heidigger had no comment on this, choosing spend his time eating his doughnuts in peace on one of Rufus's ex-armchairs. Tseng used it to torture recalcitrant Turks, and once had Rufus exiled down there for a day. He later found the vice-President half-asleep on a sofa with a decayed doughnut.

A/N: More Tseng-torture. Oh yeah. Don't worry, though, Reno'll get his just desserts... soon. *smirks evilly*

For those of you that didn't get it though, Elena's laptop blowing up was the result of Reno's work. Remember his New Year's Resolution about her laptop which was just dying to be broken in? Yep. You got it.


	3. Vincent's Vendetta

I. Do. NOT. Own. FF7. *grinds teeth* Satisfied???

He was a long way up in the air, far from the comfort of his bed, blanket, pillow, and Mr Snuffles. In front of him, the sky loomed, huge and blue and unforgiving, spinning in front of his dazed eyes like a top. He cringed, valiantly fighting down a whimper. Where was Mr Snuffles when he needed him? According to Tseng's _All You Need to be a Big, Bad Turk _Handbook Vol I, Page 357, Turks were fearless. Also, Turks didn't cry. But Rude, all alone and sorely missing the solid, reassuring feel of hard rock beneath his feet, was teetering precariously on the Cliff of Tears. Especially when he realised there was _no _back to shrink to, and that he had overstepped, because, all of a sudden, he was falling, a tiny ragdoll spiralling down into the Depths of Utter Terror. Above and beneath him were vast tracts of sullen sky, the clouds moving in on him like massive jaws of death, Reno's manic laughter ringing in his ears. He screamed -

And woke up abruptly, shivering and soaked in cold sweat, with the telephone ringing in the background. His traumatised mind, one giant step behind his body, struggled to deal with the abrupt change in situation. As such, Rude did what he normally did when threatened - he seized Mr Snuffles and flung him, headfirst, towards the source of the noise. Usually, the bizarre appearance of Mr Snuffles - pink, purple and liberally covered in Rude's drool - would be enough to send the intruder screaming and running towards the nearest bathroom for a major self-disinfection. However, since the so-called intruder was in reality Rude's telephone and therefore an inanimate object oblivious to drool, it continued ringing. Rude groaned and retreated under the blanket until only the tips of his toes could be seen. Such a call, placed in the early hours of the morning, could not bode well. He had a sinking feeling that it had something to do with the Turks.

His fears proved correct. There was a 'mip!' as his answering machine sputtered to life and Rufus's annoyingly loud voice filled the room,"Rude! Rude, I know you're in there somewhere. There's no point in trying to hide, because the orders for milk to be sent to your house has more than tripled in the past few weeks*. Something's come up, thanks to your illustrious, deranged partner Reno." Here Rude winced. Invariably, whenever Reno did something, Rude was pulled in with him too. It was hardly fair, considering the amount of time he'd spent and injuries he'd received trying to subdue his hyperactive working partner. Come to think of it, that bruise he'd gotten five months ago hadn't faded one bit.

Rufus went on, ignoring Rude's sharp intake of breath, "Tseng's been hospitalised because Elena's laptop _conveniently_ exploded while he was in her office. Doctor says it's a bad case of stress and trauma, and he'll be out of commission for five weeks or so. That means _you_ have to come back, Rude. No, I don't care what it is that you're having, I'm your President and you _will_ listen to me. So, I'll expect you back at work this morning. You'll need to get Vincent Valentine re-enlisted by the end of today - I don't care what you do, just get him. If not, I will confine you in a cell with Reno for the rest of... uhm, eternity or whatever it is and you can go insane _without _ Mr Snuffles. Is that clear?"

Rude couldn't help himself and let out a wail at the thought of the horrifying idea. Remove his Mr Snuffles? He shuddered and wrenched the bedclothes even tighter over his shiny pate.

Rufus sighed,"Rude, don't be rude. I'll see you later." The line went dead.

Such was the life of a Turk. Used, abused and confused. All for the wrong reasons, of course. Groaning, Rude stumbled out of bed and proceeded to dress. Better to get it over and done with than suffer the wrath of Rufus.

Six hours later, Rude was heartily beginning to regret that he'd ever given Rufus his telephone number. He had done the _easy_ bit of the mission: hijack a car - he'd just pushed the driver out onto the road, "Oi, you thug! Gimme back my car, damnit!!! I'll be reporting this to Shinra!** You won't be getting away -AARGH!" as said driver got knocked down by Loz pulling one of his motorbike stunts, "Oh, I'm so sorry!" And then Rude had driven the fifty miles or so out into the backcountry, exceeding the speed limit and flipping off anyone who'd dared to cut into his lane.***The _really_ difficult bit now, however, was to knock on that door and convince Vincent to return. He was feeling woefully unprepared. All he had was an extremely charred bit of paper from Tseng which mentioned something about 'Popsicles' and 'Lucrecia', and even then he wasn't very sure what exactly his boss had been getting at.

He looked down at Mr Snuffles, tucked snugly into his jacket pocket as usual,"So what do we do now, Snufflekins?"

Mr Snuffles gazed blankly back at him. The bear had a speeding ticket plastered over one eye, presumably from the police car that Rude'd accidentally rammed while exiting from the highway. He peeled it off and patted its head absent-mindedly. Fluffing oozed from a burst seam on the bear's sides. Rude sighed,"I'll take that as a go-ahead then. You'll remember me, won't you Snuffles?"

He gave his sunglasses one more polish to for the menacing 'I'm big, bad and mean,so think _twice_ before you cross me' look, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.**** If he was going to go, he might as well do it in style. On the bright side, he would be spared from eternity with Reno. On the bad side, he probably wouldn't see Snuffles anymore, either. Oh well.

Rude might have prepared for an instant death, but he certainly wasn't prepared for the sight that met him as the door was thrust back from its hinges, the wood rupturing under Chaos's great weight. The gunman was armed to the teeth, and when he said 'teeth', he meant it _literally._ It looked as if Vincent had somehow managed to swallow a mouthful of knives. In one hand, Chaos held a bazooka; in the other, Death Penalty. And both were aimed at _him_. He dived.

"NOW LISTEN!!! CHRISTMAS IS OVER, THE NEW YEAR IS PAST, AND VALENTINE'S DAY IS MORE THAN A MONTH AWAY!!! SO YOU CAN JUST GO AND -" Here, Chaos realised that there was no one in shooting range, and halted, puzzled. There was a pathetic whimper from beside his leg, and he looked down, bewildered. Rude had curled up into a ball, looking very much like a bald, spine-less hedgehog. _Ah._ _A Turk._

"Uh. Can I come out now?" Rude asked in a very small voice.

"Oh. It's you." Chaos muttered. He dropped the bazooka and started riffling furiously in his pockets, unearthing several dozing mice, a battered handkerchief, two tubs of hair cream and finally, a very ancient bit of paper. "Take this!"

_"Vincent's Popsicle Song:_

_Oh, I long for something _

_That's nice and oh-so-sweet_

_That begins with the letter 'P'_

_And ends with the letter 'e'_

_Any flavour,_

_Any colour,_

_Any time -"_

"Wait, this isn't it." Chaos growled, breaking off mid-song and looking annoyed. "I swear I _did_ put it here somewhere... Anyway, you heard me. I see Turk, I pull trigger, Turk dies. End of story." He aimed Death Penalty at Rude, who inched backwards carefully.

"Umm..." The bald Turk racked his memory desperately, looking for something..._anything_ to prolong his life several more seconds. In police shows, the cops always talked to the bad guys first to calm them down, right?***** But what words were there to address a singing, red-caped, maniac? Finally, Tseng's instructions came to mind.

"Popsicle?" He giggled, a bit nervously.

"Where!? Bring 'em out now... or you DIE!" Chaos brandished Death Penalty in Rude's face.

"Erm... I don't have any with me now? B-But, if you come along with me, there'll be lots of popsicles. I promise!" He gabbled hastily as Chaos glared at him.

"What kind?" The gunman looked extremely suspicious.

"Any kind you like?" Rude ventured.

"Even the tandoori flavoured ones? I've tried _ages_ to get them, but somehow I never did." Chaos asked, looking hopeful.

_There were tandoori-flavoured popsicles? Really? _Rude's mind whirled,"Uh...yeah. Even those."

"Okay." To Rude's undying relief, the gunman looked rather satisfied. But then his brow furrowed again,"I don't trust you."

"What? But _of course_ you can trust me! I mean, I'm Shinra! I'm the government! And the governemnt... The government.. uh, takes care of its people, right? Right?" Rude was almost begging.

"You're a Turk. And a Turk ate my _entire_ collection of Popsicles."

"That was Reno! It had _nothing _ to do with me, I swear! I'm Rude, not Reno!"

"Hmm...." The gun never wavered from his head. "Okay. But on _two_ conditions, Turk. One: I get a lifetime's supply of Popsicles, any flavour I want. Two: I even my score with Reno."

"Wh-what are you going to do with _him_? Hey, stop - I can't let you just kill my partner - "

Chaos sighed, almost patiently,"Can I remind you that _I'm_ the one holding the gun, not you? That means, _I call the shots_. Heh. Heh." ***** He laughed at his own joke.

Rude winced."So what's it going to be, Turk?" There was a _click_ as Chaos tugged off the safety catch.

"Alright! I agree! You can do _whatever_ you want! Just don't- don't shoot me!" Rude yelled, flinching away from the gunman. Dying on the job was all very well, but he'd rather do it nobly, preferably with an M16 rifle and have the satisfaction of knocking off a lot of baddies before he went, rather than expiring in a dilapidated country house just because his gun could only spout out jets of water instead of bullets.******

Chaos smirked and hauled him roughly onto his feet. "Good. So let's go. Onwards Popsicles!"

Rude wondered vaguely how he was going to explain _that_ to Tseng, but then decided it was going to be the least of his worries as Chaos started bouncing happily on the Chevrolet's seats in time to the stereo. "Sit DOWN!" Mission accomplished, but at what cost?

*So Rude drank milk. So what? Everybody did, in some form or other; in their coffee, tea or whatever they drank. He didn't see why drinking it out of a bottle with tiny dancing elephants painted on it was any different.

** He never got why they all threatened to report him to Shinra. Damnit, he _was_ Shinra, he heard it, yeah, but that didn't mean he was going to _stop_ stealing cars. It was a Turk thing.

***Bits of car and various miscellaneous body parts now littered Route 405, the most scenic route to the most peaceful town in Midgar as touted by Shinra. Reeve was totally going to butcher him when he got back, for sure.

****Turks had different ways of dealing with stress. Tseng's was The Look. It meant you had less than a second to get out of his office before you died a very, very, very horrible death. Elena just Screamed - yes, with a capital 'S'. He ought to know, after all, he'd been unfortunate enough to experience it first-hand. Needless to say, it was extremely unpleasant, and it provided him with a stunning revelation why she'd never been married. Reno just - look, you were _bloody lucky_ if you didn't get chimpanzees in your table or anything like that. Sadly, such luck rarely hapenned.

*****Rude got all his tips from watching John Woo movies - hence the sunglasses and the brooding silence. It was a pity he didn't really have the moves to match. But you never heard that, okay?

******Chaos loved puns. It had to do with being stuck in a coffin for thirty years. Come on, even demons get bored.

*******For some reason, Rude had never been issued a _real_ gun after being partnered with Reno. Go figure.

A/N: I'm sorry there isn't an Elena take on the situation... yet. It's coming right after this chappie, I promise! I _tried_ to write Elena ( seriously, what is _wrong_ with you, woman!? I _let _ you kiss Tseng, and you won't be nice to me!?!?), but for some reason, it didn't turn out very well, so I deleted it and decided to write Rude first. Personally, I'm not very satisfied with this, I feel that Rude's a bit too OOC right now. But as you can see, it's the first brick on Reno's Road to Perdition. **Review, please? I **_**really**_** need to know what I'm not doing right. **And uh.. I'm sorry if they're too many footnotes as well.... It was the first day of school yesterday, and I was tired. :( Final year _really_ sucks.


	4. Elena Goes Shopping

**A/N: **A special thank you to **Jason Tandro** for helping me vet the first three chapters. This is for _you_. Thank you, mate!

I'm sorry for the long delay. School's just been overwhelming, and my first GCE papers are coming up soon. Still, for all you guys that've been reading and favouriting, THANK YOU and here's the next instalment of Turk Resolutions from me with love! (and no, I'm NOT becoming another Elena) I think it's too much Midsummer Night's Dream revision - I swear, she's sounding more and more like Helena, and Tseng, like Demetrius. Reno could be Puck…. Okay, I better stop here 'fore I recite the entire book.

But before you get sick of me and rush on however…

**Warning:** Some seriously bad parodies of real life situations and stores here. And watch out for the alliterations, yeah. They can bite quite badly, so I'd be careful if I were you. :) haha.

It was nearing ten PM in one of Midgar's better hospitals*. Usually, the place was bustling with people, notably distraught relatives, screaming kids, even more distraught nurses and harassed doctors. Not today. Thanks to the admittance of a certain Chief of Turks, the corridors were suddenly silent and bereft of movement, especially the lobby outside Tseng's room. Two hulking figures lurked just in front of his door, doing what they did best, which was to menace the public. One of them was bald and unarmed. However, the sunglasses and the suit told a whole different story: touch him, and die. He was Rude, Acting Commander of the Turks. To embellish the fearsome scowl, a teddy bear peeked out from his jacket pocket, a silly smile on its face. The other man was taller, sported a ponytail and was noticeably less bulky. But when people looked at him, all they saw was the gold claw where his left hand should have been, and the very obvious, three-barreled gun cocked in his right. He was the newest addition to the Turks, and his name was………….none other than Vincent Valentine.

Rufus looked at them, unimpressed, "Is that all we have? Two half-brained goons against the whole of Midgar?" Deprived of alcohol for six hours, he was feeling cranky. Also, it was the longest time he had been sober. Needless to say, he found it a trial.

Vincent glared. Scarcely two hours ago, Chaos had gotten tired of trying to evoke a response from a comatose Tseng and returned control of his body back to him. He had not been amused at all when he'd regained consciousness. Somehow, he had been conscripted into the Turks against his better knowledge. Again. I just //knew// eating that peppermint cookie** I found in the drawer was a bad idea. And passing out after that was an even worse one... "For your information, Rude might be a half-brained goon, but I'm older than you are. Plus, I have a gun. So have some respect. You actually have four active Turks right now. Elena is...reading in the ladies, I think. Reno is back at HQ cleaning up the basement."

Rufus sniffed. "What respect are you talking about? You're fifty. And senile."

"And you're a paranoid fatass miser." Vincent retorted. Technically, this was true, but as Rufus was still President, no one except Reno and Vincent had dared to mention this so far.

"You-" Rufus glared back, lost for words. He turned away huffily. "Get lost."

"Can't. I'm on sentry duty." The gunman grinned smugly.

"Then get on with it, and leave me alone! Or go get me a bottle of beer."

"No can do. This is a hospital, if you haven't realised - " Vincent smirked.

"Shut up before I decide my bathroom toilet needs a little redesigning, Turk. Your long hair would serve extremely nicely as a shower curtain."

Rude sighed as Vincent opened his mouth to shoot back a cutting reply at the President. He'd somehow known this was a bad idea from the very start. And speaking of which, ye gods, _where was Elena?_

**Meanwhile, at COSMOSTROM'S, the equivalent of the Apocalypse was taking place…**

Elena wandered down a shopping aisle in Midgar's largest departmental store, humming happily to herself along the way. In one hand she grasped a well-thumbed copy of 'Dress Your Man the way You Want Him'; in the other, she propelled an over-laden supermarket trolley nicked from the nearby 'ShinMart – Save the SHINRA way!'. Creaking in protest, it wobbled precariously to and fro, somehow managing to accurately pinpoint mannequins, shelves of glassware, price boards and clothes racks on its wildly weaving way through the store, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. There was a whimper of tortured steel as Elena tugged it impatiently to a halt, bending her head to consult the magazine again. For someone with the acute senses of a Turk, she didn't seem to notice the head of a decapacitated mannequin as it trundled past her left foot, a resigned expression on its normally vacuous, sheet-white face. Nor did she appear to be aware that save for her, several petrified mannequins, acres and acres of quivering shelves and a shell-shocked sales manager, the departmental store was completely deserted on a usually hectic Sunday.

Frowning, she pulled out her checklist again, scanning through the list of things she had planned to buy for Tseng. The list ran as thus:

_Things to buy for my beloved Tsengy-wengy since we're an item now:_

_(He KISSED me!! HE KISSED ME!!! YESSYESSYESSYESS!!!)_

_Scented soap ( Lush Lavender and Sinfully Sensuous Silky Scentful Strawberries – just the thing to spice up his day! ) *_

_Kennel Call ties (PINK and TRAFFIC CONE ORANGE – oh, won't he look just CUTE!?)_

_A Swooner's Street Ernest toothbrush (since I stole his a couple of months ago – and anyway, I have a matching Bernice one!!! :D)_

_A shoal of Piranhas**** (He was muttering about a blonde stalker the other day who tried to get into his house the other day – WHO IS SHE!? HOW DARE SHE STALK MY TSENGI!?!? DOESN'T SHE KNOW I __**OWN **__HIM!?!?! Never mind, these'll settle the nosy, grabbing b%#&h!!! Hah! I'd like to see her try to sneak into his house the next time!)_

_A joint of beef (I've never actually cooked before, but just for the love of my life, I'll try to. Steak sounds just about right. I wonder if he'll like it rare or cooked? Anyway, it should be easy. Just stick it in to nuke, right?)*****_

_A pink digital photo frame (now he can look at me all day! We'll NEVER be apart!)_

_A yellow nightcap, personalized, with I 3 Tseng embroided in luminous purple thread (Now he can go to sleep without catching a cold!)_

_A cuddly chocobo with a record that will play 'Oh I Love You So' when hugged (Just an inspiration from Rude's Mr Snuffles. Of course, she'll be called Ms Laney and she won't be so dirty. Bet Tseng's gonna LOVE it!!!!)_

_A holster for Tseng's Beretta (The magazine says that some men like a feminine touch to go with their gifts… I rather think my Tseng is that poetic sort; I mean, he gives me that really deep look everytime I pass by, so here's a pansy-patterned one for him.) ******_

_The Century's Greatest Love Hits from East Livin'(VERY IMPORTANT!!!!)_

Elena's eyes narrowed as she looked up. "Yes, that CD. How could I have forgotten? Tsengy-poo needs something to lighten up his day!"

She scanned her surroundings, realizing for the first time that the store was completely empty. "Anyone? I need help… I need to find a CD and… this store is an _absolute mess_!"

The sales manager couldn't help but choke back a terrified sob at the sound of Elena's voice. The female Turk whirled around, whipping out her best Hello-pleased-to-meet-you-could-you –please –do –this-for-me-NOW smile. "I heard you, you…. Well, I mean, I heard you. Yes, the thing huddling beneath last season's gowns. Look up, please. I need East Livin's Greatest Love Hits and you're gonna get it for me right NOW. Or else…" She paused for dramatic effect, smile slipping away into what she thought was a superior smirk. Enter Morticia, Queen of the Night People, though minus the black nails and hair, in one her most foul moods.

This was the last straw for the sales manager. After seeing his section demolished, the customers spooked and his dignity compromised, the crazy woman stranger's appearance put the icing on the cake. He keeled over with a muffled, "I want my Mummy!"

Elena gave an irate sigh. Why did people _always _have to faint when she spoke to them? She knew she was striking and carried such an aura, but really… And at such an inappropriate time too. She wanted badly to be there when Tseng woke up. Well, never mind, she'd get it somewhere else. She swung the trolley out through the broken glass doors of the COSMOSTROM, into the silent street. Behind her, the building wheezed once, and then collapsed in on itself, burying the unfortunate sales manager in a pile of rubble and cutlery. Don't ask why.

*Better didn't actually mean it was good. It just meant that the hospital was one of the few that actually had a roof. Rufus develops a mysterious deafness whenever the topic is raised at one of the Meet-the-People meetings.**

**Meet-the-People is actually conducted behind the safety 6m thick, reinforced bunker walls in case the populace lynches their illustrious President. Which they want to do - all the time. Often Rufus just sits there in an overstuffed armchair getting drunker than a skunk while outside, speakers declare the glories of the SHINRA empire to a horde of blood-crazed slum dwellers. Of course he's too busy. He's the President after all, and has more important things to do. Such is the burden of those who are born great.

***Tseng ABHORRED scented soaps. He had never gone a mile near them ever since Reno claimed the smell was worse than the Galian Beast's hairy toes and conveniently pushed him into a waste heap to 'get rid of that pong'.

****Tseng had spent the last few months painstakingly constructing a moat around his house, for some obscure reason. When the neighbours complained, they woke up in the morning to see a crocodile grinning back at them. Not surprisingly, the property prices had plunged, and the Turk commander now enjoys a greatly enlarged living space of fifty apartment units in his condominium.

*****The beef begs to differ.

****** Elena referred to her magazines with a religious deference that sane people normally reserved for their Bibles. Every word the bored editor flung out for the female readers to devour was the gospel truth. The magazines were never wrong. Even when they had published images of short-sleeved spring dresses in their winter issue by mistake. Elena faithfully bought and wore them to work despite being half-frozen by the time she reached the office.


	5. Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

**A/N: **Just to compensate for not posting for so long, I'll do the next instalment too. Hope you enjoy it!

It was nearing midnight when the still form of the Turk Commander stirred. Tseng opened an eye, and shut it immediately, wishing he hadn't woken up at all. Ye gods, why was his life so… so.. so… _terrible_? First insubordination from Reno, whom he privately suspected was permanently on a octane high, then stalking by a crazy woman, who coincidentally happened to be his colleague and thirdly….his mind faltered, then soldiered on bravely, AND THIRDLY THAT SAME WOMAN WAS ALSO IN THE HOSPITAL BED WITH HIM!!!

Wait. Wait. Same bed? SAME BED!?!?!?!? Tseng's eyes snapped open, both of them this time, and he fought back a scream. Elena's face was _bare centimeters _from his. And she was _drooling. _ On his chest. Oh, hell. Wasn't this a gross invasion of personal space? Shouldn't there be a law against that at all? Wasn't there _anyone_ that was going to save him?

Apparently not, from the way things were going. Tseng shrank back into the pillows as Elena - _God forbid, no! _- snuggled closer. Now they were almost kissing. _Shit. I've got to get out of here – before she realizes I'm awake and tries to pounce on me again, and damn well before __**Rufus**__ and company get here tomorrow morning and realize… and realize… _Oh dear. He himself was trying not to think of the implications. _Erm… and realize I'm not alone. _

This was easier said than done, given that his arms were firmly pinioned to his sides by Elena's weight. She groaned and shifted in her sleep, and her elbow settled itself against Tseng's throat, pressing against his windpipe. Tseng choked. _Great. Just great. _Either Elena murdered him by mistake in her sleep, or he survived the indignity and the danger until tomorrow morning only to get laughed at by Rufus. It seemed there was no deity that he could rely on for help, or if there was one, it was most probably having a whale of a time laughing at him. Most probably, it had even engineered the situation that he was currently stuck in. He growled, irritatedly. When he got full use of his limbs back, he was going to climb up to the top of the SHINRA HQ and fire a flamethrower into the sky. Just to, you know, get his point across. No one messes with a Turk – especially the Boss – and gets away with it, quoted directly from _How to be a Big, Bad Turk, page 208, Tip 1567, _and one of Tseng's cardinal rules. It was certainly one very close to his heart.

The problem now was – how to get out of bed and escape back home without this psycho stalker realizing I've gone. He wriggled slightly, trying to ease his gun arm out from under Elena's stomach, but froze as she stirred. Holding his breath, he tried his best to mime sleep. _Go back to sleep, woman, I'm in a coma. SLEEP. SLEEP. Or don't blame me if you don't happen to wake up the next day. I mean it. SLEEP._ Brave thoughts, but rather futile when your rabid fan has the upper hand.

Moving as gently as possible, Tseng extricated himself from Elena's clinging embrace and hopped out of bed. It wasn't easy, not with his left leg in a cast and his windpipe in perpetual danger of being squashed by a leisurely movement of Elena's elbow. But he was a Turk, and Turks didn't give up. He had just hauled himself upright when something fell over his eyes, obscuring his vision completely. Tseng's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. Any moment now, he expected to hear Elena squeal some horribly sugar-coated, sappy version of his name and drag him back to bed. He flinched as his foot came into contact with something soft and feathery. Surely that wasn't Elena's nightdress…was it? The Turk commander had never recalled feeling so fearful before.

It wasn't. Something infinitely worse happened. Out from nowhere, a high-pitched voice started singing 'Oh I Love You So'. Tseng cringed and fairly leapt away from it in shock, colliding into the movable table stationed by the bed. There was a resounding crash, a fizzle and the voice went 'Ohhhhhhh…' weakly before fading out into unintelligible crackles which bore a close resemblance to Reno's snoring.

_Damn it! _ Clutching his bruised toe, Tseng sank to the floor in pain. That hurt. It really _really_ hurt. What on earth was that table made from? Lead? Whatever it was, it was bloody noisy and bloody dense, too.

"Tsengy-wengy? Don't be scared, I'm here – TSENG!! WHERE ARE YOU????" Elena's purr morphed into a full-out, enraged scream. A Bahamut would have run away, sobbing brokenly for its mother. Bahamuts ate their mothers, but anyway Tseng lost no more time in nursing his toe. He sprang up with astounding agility for a man who had narrowly escaped death in an explosion and took to his heels, taking advantage of the darkness to rip off the thing that had blinded him and find the door. Within bare second, he was out and running like the wind despite his injured foot. Elena's shouts echoed behind him as he sprinted as though all hell were after him. He had a feeling he was going to be an extremely unhappy man if he got caught tonight.

A wild-looking man with tousled hair, clad in only a pink nightshirt and dragging a broken foot suddenly appeared out of nowhere, startling a sleeping tramp on the pavement.

"Give me your clothes! NOW!" Tseng practically hauled the destitute off the ground.

The man had no weapons whatsoever, and was wounded. Normally, he'd be a sitting duck for the homeless vagabond. But the look in his eyes convinced the tramp otherwise. Inside the man lurked a beast with razor-sharp jaws, a beast which he'd rather not get close and personal with. Mutely, he handed over his clothes. Seconds later, the lunatic had gone, leaving him with a pink nightshirt and wondering, dazedly, if it had all been a nightmare. Sometimes it was safer to just pretend nothing had happened, and he guessed, wisely, that this was one of those times.

Elena zoomed along the streets astride a stolen Harley Davidson Night Rod, raging and pounding on the horn. "TSENG! STOP RIGHT THERE! WHO'S THAT HUSSY WHO TOOK YOU AWAY!!?!?!? I'M GOING TO MURDER HER!"

This only made Tseng run faster, which convinced Elena that there _was_ someone indeed who was seeing Tseng, and in turn caused her to gun the motorbike harder. Tseng was _hers_. The Night Rod leapt forward, covering the distance between them.

Tseng hurled himself across the pavement, eyes screwed and preparing to meet his grisly fate. _Please, just don't let it be too painful – _Then there was the leathern flap of wings in his ears and suddenly the ground all but vanished from his feet. _What the -? _ Elena's furious yells grew distant and he hesitantly opened his eyes. Over the course of the last few minutes, he'd grown to hate surprises. His eyes rolled back into his head and he succumbed to sweet unconsciousness again with a groan. He'd just fallen out of the frying pan and into the fire.

**A/N: ** Hate to leave it a cliffie but don't worry, Tseng's not going to die. I think you can guess who saved him from Elena though. Look out for the next chapter yeah! Reviews are appreciated.


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